


Mad World

by futureimperfect



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureimperfect/pseuds/futureimperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...They were just children then, jumping through worlds to escape their own existences and failures, falling into one another and fighting for some semblance of sanity.  They’d destroyed each other once and again, and the cycle was destined to continue."</p>
<p>Inspired by the wonderful darkness that is Mad/Queen, their history, and the song 'Mad World' that haunted me into writing this up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad World

**Author's Note:**

> First MadQueen fic & M/F isn't usually my go to ;) Thanks for reading & Let me know what you think!

_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, worn out faces_

_Bright and early for their daily races_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere_

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

_And I find it kinda funny,_

_I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very very mad world_

_….mad world_

*********************************************************

He feels the draft from the open door before the sound of familiar heels echoes down the hall, and doesn’t bother to turn back from the window, with its heavy curtains and the torment in the distance. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t flinch when those heels are silenced in their approach by the luxurious carpet of the room. This, like all the others in view, are flawless. Something out of a modern fantasy, yet who's he can't be sure. The madness, as always, lies beneath.

The fire pops and hisses in the ornate hearth behind him, cedar smoke now mingling with the scent of the familiar intruder as she takes up residence behind him. There’s no point in fighting for his last shreds of sanity any longer. By the date on the papers it’s been over twenty years of this prison, and he’s tired of pushing. She is too, but he’d never mention it.

After so many years in stasis, things are starting to crumble. The sandcastle they’ve all be residing in is being dissolved by the tide, and he knows there’s no telling what will happen when the ocean finally rushes in.

Here they’re still much like they used to be, back when things were simpler that lifetime ago. They were just children then, jumping through worlds to escape their own existences and failures, falling into one another and fighting for some semblance of sanity. They’d destroyed each other once and again, and the cycle was destined to continue.

Wordlessly, her fingers run up his spine, the collared shirt he wears serving to provide little protection from their intent. When she reaches his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, his eyes close for a moment. Years ago, in fits of hope and desperation, he’d tried to ply her for an end to his pain. Threats, attempts at damage, and eventually wanton capitulation had all finally been abandoned as he realized their futility. She’s not their jailer anymore, here she’s just an inmate like the rest of them. What was left of it all was this occasional attempt at distraction and hollow comfort.

Lips replace the hand at the back of his neck and bare arms snake around his middle, reaching lazily for the buttons of his shirt. He steals a brief glance down and can almost see the black lace covering them once more. Shirt now open, he feels her hand knot in the scarf around his neck, twisting it roughly around her fingers until it makes his breath catch. Though she’s small in stature once devoid of her silk and jeweled armor, her power is inevitable. It wasn’t always the case, but too many have contributed to the terrible masterpiece who’s pressed against him tonight, himself included.

There’s no pretense to it. This isn’t about love or friendship, it’s about hopelessness and anger, and yes, a little pain. As best he can tell, they alone carry the weight of both worlds here in this godforsaken refugee camp. It’s a curse she chose to make him share. It’s his own punishment, well suited as penance for the years of transience, half-lives, and debauchery.

When she turns him, they fall together. She tastes like whiskey and he drinks her in. This is going to hurt them both, they'll each make sure of that. If he wakes tomorrow he’ll try to erase her touch from his skin, her chiding stare from his mind. But that is a good while off. Now, he’s taking _Her Majesty's_ hair by the roots in his hands and twisting her down beneath him. She cries out his name, agony and relief in equal measure. It’s an almost welcome reunion with the people they were a lifetime ago, in yet another world of madness.


End file.
